Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms #3)(17)
Author: Anna DePalo

“Why would Colin want to stay married to me?” she rejoined.

Her uncle looked at her keenly. “Now there’s a question for the marquess. You’re an attractive girl. And perhaps he wants to save face with society. After all, you did almost marry another man while you remained his wife. If you and the marquess live as man and wife for a period of time, it’ll stamp out the taint.”

Belinda felt her shoulders slump. She didn’t believe Colin cared a fig about society—after all, he was the one who had generated a scandal by interrupting her wedding. But soothing the blow to his pride? Yes, that she could believe. She had rejected Colin after their Vegas wedding. She’d fled, fearful of what she’d done, and had beat a hasty retreat down the reckless path she’d traveled in one night.

If she had instigated Colin’s drive for revenge, wasn’t she responsible for rectifying the fallout?

The thought swept through Belinda’s mind. Her world was no longer a neat painting but one streaked with bold and unexpected new colors.

She was no longer faced with the relatively simple matter of dissolving her marriage to Colin. The Wentworth heritage was in Granville hands. And the responsible streak in her wouldn’t let her walk away without making an effort to save it, especially if she’d had a hand in bringing about the current situation.

Still, even if she was responsible, could she play a high-stakes game with a seasoned gambler?

Her cell phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts, and she fished it out of her handbag to glance down at a text message.

Meet @ Halstead—DH

Belinda’s mind churned. The message could be interpreted as a summons, a request or a question. Halstead Hall was the family seat in Berkshire of the Marquess of Easterbridge. Though Belinda didn’t recognize the phone number, there was no mistaking whom the text was from. Colin had cleverly signed himself as DH—darling husband in text parlance.

There was one way to find out the answer to the question of whether she was up to the task of saving the Wentworth family fortune.

Her campaign would be if not exactly snatching victory from the jaws of disaster then at least surviving to fight another day.

“I’ll remain married to you.”

Belinda felt like a defeated army general being summoned for the signing of a peace treaty, all of whose terms had been dictated by the other side. Her job was to salvage what she could.

In a nod to the nippy March weather, her armor was a cowl-neck sweaterdress and knee-high boots.

Colin stood beside the fireplace in a drawing room of Halstead Hall. He wore a knit pullover over wool trousers—typical English country-gentleman attire.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I have certain conditions, however,” she said from a few feet away, having declined a seat.

She tried not to look around, because she feared she might be daunted. She’d never been inside Halstead Hall before, but of course she was familiar with the house and surrounding estate. Together they formed a Berkshire landmark, and she’d grown up literally next door.

The house was an immense monolith with a beauty all its own. It had been started in the sixteenth century and added onto ever since. There were enough turrets, arched entries and paned windows to impress the most discerning cognoscenti, let alone the typical tourist.

Belinda had found it almost comical to be greeted at the door by the housekeeper and addressed as Lady Granville. Obviously, Colin had informed his staff about what to expect after she’d texted him back and accepted his invitation to meet—or perhaps, more accurately, set down arms—at Halstead Hall. To her credit, the housekeeper had acted as if Belinda’s arrival at the front door was already an everyday occurrence.

Belinda knew she had taken on quite a bit by meeting Easterbridge in his bastion. But if nothing else, their recent encounters had shown her that negotiations would take place on his terms. The ball was, quite literally, in his court.

If the outside of Halstead Hall was an impressive testament to centuries of wealth and power, then the inside bore witness to the current occupant’s money and prestige. Everything had been updated for modern comfort but was still in keeping with the house’s history and majesty. The whole vast interior had central heat, twenty-first century plumbing and insulation and barely a creaky floorboard.

There were finely wrought plaster ceilings, and antique furniture and marble busts. She recognized paintings from Rubens and Gainsborough, among others.

It was all in depressing contrast to the Wentworth properties. She’d grown up with her great-grandmother’s Victorian china, but not wealth of the caliber that existed at Halstead Hall. She knew that Downlands needed a long-overdue modernization of its plumbing and heating, and the Mayfair town house required a new roof.

“Of course you have conditions,” Colin said smoothly. “Would one of those be having a wedding ceremony that does not involve a Vegas chapel?”

“No, definitely not.” She didn’t appreciate his sardonic humor. It was bad enough that she had come back to him with proverbial hat in hand. “I said I’d stay married to you—not that I’d marry you again.”

She’d already survived an elopement and a wedding. She didn’t want to push her luck. Because let’s face it, she and the altar had a love-hate relationship.

His reaction wasn’t what she’d anticipated. It was cool and calculating, despite a certain intensity in his gaze.

“There’s a difference?” he asked mockingly.

“Of course,” she replied. “Can you imagine what our two families would do if they had to sit across a church aisle from each other?”

“Make peace and attribute it to divine intervention?” he quipped.

“Quite the opposite, I’m sure.”

“It might make for a good show.”

“I’d rather take my chances with an Elvis impersonator.”

“You almost did.”

“Don’t remind me.” She’d declined—just barely—the offer of an Elvis wannabe to witness her elopement.

“So what are your conditions?”

“I want you to sign over the Wentworth properties to my name.”

“Ah.” Colin’s eyes gleamed, as if he’d been expecting her demand.

Belinda raised her chin. “It’s a fair bargain. After all, they are what is keeping this marriage alive.”

Colin tilted his head. “Considering how weak your bargaining position is, it’s an impressive demand. After all, your only bargaining chip is to threaten to dissolve our marriage, but then you wouldn’t necessarily wind up with the Wentworth estates anyway.”